


Like a Tree

by mercurybard



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Black Parade Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: Bob is Frank's very favorite perch.





	Like a Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Body and Vagina Love meme

Bob is Frank's very favorite perch. Seriously. How many guys are there who would let him sit on their head and smoke? And only bitch a little bit when Frank accidentally knees them in the armpit climbing up or ashes on their nose? Bob is clearly made of win.

(Jamia just laughed when she saw the Steve's Taste of Chaos segment that featured Bob-sitting. Laughed and said "this is why we're never getting a monkey". Frank figures he can talk Gerard into getting a monkey instead. That's nearly as good as having one himself.)

So, anyway, Bob. Bob is great for climbing.

Then he sets himself on fire during the "Famous Last Words" video and ends up with staph _**in his brain**_. These things combine to produce a man much diminished when he gets out of the hospital. It's unnerving at first: Frank's used to Bob being nice and solid. That first week when Bob's released (officially released, not just snuck out when the doctors weren't looking), he can't bring himself to use Bob as a climbing tree.

It makes him twitchy, and he tries climbing Ray instead...

Let's just say it ends badly. 

After of eight days of this nonsense, Frank is lying on the couch in one of the buses, watching _Pirates of the Caribbean_ through his eyelids. Just lying there, not hurting anything.

And Bob sits on his stomach. 

Frank tries to yelp, but the air's been pretty much squashed right out of him.

"Okay, fucker, what's wrong?" Bob demands.

Still no air, so Frank makes big, pleading puppy dog eyes in response.

Bob sighs and stands up, sitting back down as soon as Frank pulls his legs up. Then he raises one eyebrow in a clearly non-verbal 'now?'

"Nothing's wrong."

"Bullshit."

"I swear."

"Next time, I'll sit on your head."

It is not an idle threat. Frank knows this from experience. He bites his lip, debating how to phrase this. In the end, he just says it all in one big breath, "Iwannajumponyoubutit'sweirdbecauseyou'reallscrawnyandI'mscaredyou'lltipover."

Bob blinks. "Seriously? That's why you've been acting like a complete jackass for over a week?"

Frank nods.

Bob sighs deeply and stands. "Come on, you little freak. You're not going to knock me over." He makes the 'bring it' gesture known to any fan of kung fu movies.

Frank eyes Bob and his new shape. Well, if he insists... Getting his legs under him on the couch, he launches himself at Bob. Maybe he put a little too much "umph" into it, since his arms go around Bob's head instead of his neck, but his legs wrap comfortably around Bob's middle.

Bob staggers back a step, but it's no more than he used to when catching Frank from a flying leap pre-hospital. His broad hands catch Frank under the armpits, and he resettles him at his waist. "Told you."


End file.
